


Thrall

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adding tags as I go along, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Double Drabble, Junkenstein's Revenge, M/M, Vampire Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Vampire Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Vampire spawn 76 TECHNICALLY, and undeath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: The Soldier doesn't stop him when he pushes his rifle away. He doesn't stop him when he leans in far too close, when he can feel his deathly cold breath on his neck, when he feels the sharp pain of fangs piercing his neck.A series of 200-word drabbles.





	1. New Moon

“This… _ Reaper _fellow. You two know each other?”

“In a past life, yes. I knew him when he was still a man of flesh and blood. Now… I don't know what he is anymore.” The Soldier takes a gulp of his coffee and grimaces. Too cold.

The Gunslinger’s expression darkens. He's a man in his late 30s, if The Soldier had to guess. A fellow American. He had been the last one to join their motley crew—now there were four. 

“Heard a rumor that he sold his soul to some witch for immortality. That true?” The Gunslinger asks with a tilt of his head.

“Whatever his story is, I’m here to put an end to it once and for all. Should have done it a long time ago…” The Soldier’s voice trails off.

“You're too hard on yourself,” The Alchemist pipes up. She places her mug in her lap and goes to place a gentle hand on The Soldier’s shoulder—an attempt at comfort despite the guilt she knew was gnawing at him from the inside. “No one could have known what lengths he would go to for power.”

He doesn't seem reassured. He turns his gaze back to the fire.


	2. Waxing Crescent

“Come on out, Reaper!” The Soldier shouts, trying to not let the apprehension show in his voice. He knows he's here —the air doesn't feel right. It feels stagnant, as if humming with electricity.

A dark smoke begins to fill the forest like a dense fog. It slithers through the grass, silent, before weaving itself around The Soldier’s legs. Taking a deep breath, The Soldier clicks the safety off on his rifle.

The smoke coalesces into a man-like shape. The Reaper is suddenly standing before him and The Soldier finds that he is at a loss for words.

“You summoned me?” His voice sounds like the very smoke he rode in on, dark and grating. The Soldier can't help but notice how The Reaper sounds nothing like his old friend. _ Good, _ he thinks. _ That will make this easier. _

His costume is ornate and reminds The Soldier of something worn by Victorian royalty.

A creature out of time.

His most striking feature is the skull mask on his face. Two fang-like protrusions jut out from the upper jaw of the mask. The Soldier wouldn't be intimidated by this creature’s Halloween costume—not today. He is a man on a mission, after all.


	3. First Quarter

“You seek to kill me,” The Reaper notes coolly.

“I should have done it a long time ago.” The name _ Gabriel _ almost slips past his lips.

This isn't Gabriel. This is a monster. He must remember that.

“You cannot kill me so long as my soul is bound to the Witch of the Wilds. I am immortal.” The Reaper reaches around to the back of his head. The Soldier aims his gun, ready to test the monster’s theory should he attack.

The Reaper removes his mask. A bearded human face stares back at The Soldier. The darkness of the forest, even with a lantern, makes it difficult to see, but he can see that his face has remained unchanged despite the passage of time.

“Gabriel,” The Soldier mutters. It looks as if he’s stepped right out of his memories.

Wordless, The Reaper glides toward him. The Soldier doesn't stop him when he pushes his rifle away. He doesn't stop him when he leans in far too close, when he can feel his deathly cold breath on his neck, when he feels the sharp pain of fangs piercing his neck.

“Join me, Jack,” The Reaper whispers against his throat. He drinks.


	4. Waxing Gibbous

The Gunslinger finds him unconscious on the forest floor.

His skin is scorching to the touch. It feels like every muscle, every organ, every inch of his body is on fire. He can barely find the energy to raise his head to take sips of water offered by The Alchemist, much less eat. The bites of food that he does take are immediately expelled; it never sits right in his stomach. Even water makes his stomach want to revolt. 

He’s been sick before, has suffered life-threatening wounds before, but none of it compared to this.

He can see the worried look on The Alchemist’s face every time he groans in agony. Despite their attempts at privacy, he can hear—he doesn’t know how—the frantic words exchanged between The Alchemist and The Archer. The Alchemist has never seen sickness like this before.

The Archer believes he will not survive the night and suggests putting him out of his misery.

The Soldier never mentions the monster in the forest, the one that had pressed open-mouthed kisses to his throat while whispering dark promises of immortality. Was it even real? Nothing seems real—just another fever-fueled hallucination.

_ Join me, Jack. _

His fever breaks at dusk.


	5. Full Moon

“I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better!” The Alchemist says cheerily. She scoops a large ladle full of stew into a bowl and hands it to him; The Soldier declines it with a raise of his hand.

“I’m glad, too. I felt like death warmed over. I’ve been through a lot in my life, but that was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever gone through.”

“We thought we were gonna have to put you down like an old dog!” The Gunslinger smiles, his eyes bright with humor. He reaches for The Soldier’s declined bowl of stew and dumps it into his own. “Ol’ sourpuss over here had an arrow nocked and everythin’!” He tilts his head towards The Archer, who scoffs in reply. 

“Insolent cur,” The Archer mumbles.

The Gunslinger throws his head back and laughs. “It’s like my grandpa just tried to insult me!” 

The Soldier’s attention is drawn to the subtle curve of his neck accentuated by the warm glow of the fire. His ears pick up on the drum-like beat of his heartbeat, low and steady.

At that moment, he is the most enticing creature he has ever seen.

The thought is quickly shaken away.


	6. Waning Gibbous

“I’ve, heh, never been with an older guy before.”

The Soldier quirks a silver eyebrow at the man across from him and gratefully accepts the flask from The Gunslinger. “Does my age bother you?” The Soldier asks before pressing his lips to the flask; whatever is inside is potent enough to dull the senses.

“Nah. Experience comes with age.”

“Good.” The Soldier doesn't miss the wink over the lip of the flask. The light from the moon highlights his rugged features in a white glow.

The Gunslinger snags the flask back from him and takes a heavy swig. A few drops of the fiery liquid cling to his beard like drops of quicksilver. Suddenly his lips, tasting of whiskey and cheap tobacco, are crushing against his own, desperate and clumsy.

“I don't think I ever got your name, darlin’,” The Gunslinger pants against his chapped lips.

The Soldier grabs his hair and pulls, exposing the tan flesh of his neck. He can feel The Gunslinger’s shallow heartbeat in the artery against his lips. “Name’s Jack.” His canines puncture layers of flesh and sinewy muscle and he doesn't stop drinking until the frantic fists beating against his back slowly fade away.


	7. Third Quarter

_"I was wondering if you were going to do it,”_ a voice like smoke calls out to him from the darkness. It sounds amused.

The Soldier recognizes it as belonging to The Reaper, but the monster is nowhere in sight. His voice echoes against the immense trees of the forest, fills his mind, but he knows he is the only one to hear it.

“Where are you?” The Soldier demands, trying to hide the rising panic in his voice. He drops The Gunslinger’s body, frail and lifeless, and it falls to the ground with a thud that's impossibly loud in the sequestered forest. “I want to see you.” 

It has only been a week, yet he longs for The Reaper’s icy touch on his skin again. He longs to drink from his wrists again and feel that life-giving energy surge through his veins.

_“In time.”_

The faintest whisper of wind rustles his hair and The Soldier turns around. There's nothing but the embrace of frigid autumn air on his face. He drops to his knees. The tendrils of panic are starting to grip him, he feels, and he wants to vomit. What had he done? His dirt-caked hands tremble.

_Monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super excited about any of the Halloween skins this year and that makes me sad. 😞 Lucio's skin is pretty rad and Reaper's new voice line is hilarious, though!


	8. Waning Crescent

“I hope you don't mind me saying, Jack, but you're not looking yourself these days.”

The Soldier grimaces as he swallows his swig of coffee. Too hot. The mug burns his fingertips, but he doesn't put it down. To be honest, he doesn't feel himself these days. “How so?”

“Something’s off, but I can't put my finger on what.” The Alchemist sets her mug of tea down beside her and gestures to her own face. “You’re paler than normal.”

“Mm. Must be a trick of the light.”

The Alchemist places a gentle hand on his knee, her eyebrows furrowed. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Could he, though? He doesn't even know if he fully understands what is happening. Would she be saying that if she knew what he had done? 

“Yeah, I know, Ana. Thanks.” Looking into the fire-backed reflection of his coffee, he can see that he looks like death. There are dark bags under his eyes—a sign of just how little he has slept the past week. His features are deep-set with wrinkles. For once, he looks as old as he feels. 

The Soldier reaches for the coffee pot beside the fire—his fifth cup that night.


	9. Blue Moon

The Soldier stares into the fire. It burns his eyes, the sensitive skin on his face. It’s overwhelming. A part of him longs to recoil, to curl up somewhere under the stars far away from the fire and away from _ them. _To have the chill October wind freeze his exposed flesh until he can't feel anymore. It’s below freezing that night; surely the others would notice his absence. 

Ana would worry. He can't do that to her.

“It’s quiet around here without that gunslinger,” says The Alchemist. “I hope he's okay.”

“Soldier,” The Archer begins. There is a sharp look in his eyes that rouses The Soldier from his thoughts. “You were the last person I saw wander off with him.” His face is an unreadable mask. “Where is he?”

His heart skips a beat. _ The Gunslinger. _He can feel adrenaline starting to course through his veins. Visions of his drained corpse dance through his mind. 

_ He did that to him. _

Seemingly unfazed, The Soldier clears his mind and replies, “Dunno. Said he had business to take care of.”

The Archer snorts. “You take me for a fool.” But he does not say another word the rest of the night.


	10. Blood Moon

It's dark in the forest that night. There’s no moon to illuminate The Soldier's way as he searches, looking for any sign that The Reaper is near—the feeling of static in the air, swirling mists, a disembodied laugh in the distance—anything.

He needs answers, needs _ him_. He doesn't feel like himself. This is where The Reaper had been before, why is he not here now?!

“Jack?”

The voice startles him. He turns around to find Ana, concern etched into her features.

It’s the flash of hunger pangs, he knows, that drives him to prowl from the brush like a wolf on the hunt. He can hear her heartbeat, can smell the fruity nectar of blood coursing through her veins that causes him to rush forward with a voracious growl.

Something about the desperation in her screams makes him stop before his fingers can encircle around her throat.

_ He's not himself. _

Burning pain shoots through his body. Looking down, he can see the tip of an arrow jutting through the center of his chest, just above his sternum.

His eyes briefly meet those of The Archer.

As The Soldier's vision fades, he hears a disembodied laugh from deep within the forest.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing only 200 words is HARD I tell you hwhat. It was a fun little exercise, though!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
